The Raven' short story adaptation
by Easily-Forgotten-Love
Summary: We don't actually know much about the character to the poem other than he goes mad , how he lost Lenore, so this is my interpretation.


The Raven- Final Draft.

"The autumn night was fierce. Those black heavens had opened, knocking down the remaining autumn leaves on the trees; Zeus threw down lightning bolts, and rumbling overtook the Earth. Yet, I am here, solemnly sitting in my chamber. The light from the fireplace just flickers onto the room, revealing its sorry state. Huge Georgian pillars dominate the entrance, its cold stone a theme for the whole room.

The furniture was of dark mahogany, draped in decaying fabrics. The book cases were filled with texts that had these hands busily flicking through them, losing myself in the volumes of forgotten lore. And hanging just above the fireplace, there was a painting, hidden under a layer of black material to cover what I have lost.

But I fear, as I sat there pondering weakly over my life, there is more than one reason why I was reading all those books. I wanted to forget.

Whilst I was slipping into sleep, I heard a gentle rapping on my chamber door. The noise went through the room, hung onto its echo, like it had never heard before.

'Tis some visitor tapping at my chamber door,' I reassured myself, 'nothing else.'

How I remember a night similar to that one. It was in the bleak December, and as each piece of wood died on the fireplace, it hulled the ghosts out from the shadows— they cast themselves along the floor, drawing ever closer, becoming ever colder. I indulged myself in texts, as I do now, to block out the sorrow. She is forever gone.

My Lenore…is dead. She fell through the ice on that fateful day in December, died of pneumonia. For almost a year now, I have been without her; not felt her velvet skin, or run my fingers through her silky, golden tresses. She looked as though she was carved by angels. But I am forgetting what she looked like…I did not want this; just to forget the pain.

The sun seemed to have been taken with her, as I have not felt it shine upon my face, nor would I want to unless I could see hers in return. With her my life did not seem such a waste…

Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the door, and at the same moment, the wind threw the purple curtains up into the air, shocking me so that I knocked over my medication that was on the mahogany desk next to me. The scare had filled me with excitement, something that was lacking in the manor. A fantastic terror for someone to feel— the beating of this heart is rising; rising so that it feels as though it can burst. But I could not move.

'It's just some visitor…some late visitor who wants to enter my chamber' I said, gazing back and forth between the door and the drapes.

But what is causing these late night disturbances, I thought—not a normal being that is visible and warm to the touch; perhaps my dear Lenore has come back to me? I could not stand not knowing any longer! If this was a normal human being, then why hide? My soul could not take the torment.

'Sir, or Madam, if that be the case,' I stated, 'if there is someone here, then please present yourself. See, whilst you came gently tapping on my chamber door, I awoke from my slumber, and this midnight mystery has left my heart…in hope.'

Turning myself from the drapes, I grew closer to the door.

'So please, I know I heard a faint rapping on this chamber door.' My hand was running over the cold brass knob.

'So please reveal yourself!'

I flung it open, hoping to reveal my gentle intruder. But instead, I was greeted with darkness, confusion; there was no person, no Lenore… I stood there bitterly under the arch, full of disappointment, I could not speak. Nor move. All this darkness—was it mocking me? Filling me with false hope that my love would return to me? A rush of anger grew inside of me.

'LENORE!' there was no reply; 'LENORE!' but this dark corridor seemed to swallow the sound up. There was just an echo, hearing her name becoming fainter, and fainter, until I was left in silence yet again.

Drifting back into my chamber, I felt cheated. My very soul was burning; as if Hephaestus had struck right to my inner core, making my heart into another of his weapons that kept on stabbing at my emotions.

I heard the tapping again, but on my window. Yet this was a harder knock, like someone who was angry and demanded attention.

'Surely…surely that is something knocking on my window lattice! This entity that cannot be ignored,' said I, approaching the window. Perhaps it was the wind again, but what sort of wind can make a noise that hands make?

I carefully lifted the hatch of the window, unable to see anything outside because the night was so black, opened the shutter—and felt a rush of wind blow over my face, tangling the curtains around me, taking my breath away from me. Hastily I removed them and backed away, then stopped. There was a dark object next to me that had not been there before; I peered down and saw a bird. The creature was largish, dark, and stared at me with its great ebony eyes.

'A raven?' I questioned, 'what is a bird like this doing here, coming in the middle of the night to my chamber window? Well, perhaps it just flew into the window, and that is what has been making these noises. However, it could not have tapped on my chamber door…'

It only settled for a moment before it flew up and perched itself on the bust of the statue, Pallas. But what made it rest there? A bird recognisable for being wise, placing itself on the Greek goddess of wisdom...perhaps this bird was more than just a dark intruder—it had come here as a messenger for me! Yes—it must have!

'Grim and ancient raven! Tell me that you have come here from Night's Plutonian shore to speak of my love, Lenore!'

There was nothing. The raven was still; its intense, deep eyes fixed into my own, weaker grey eyes.

'Nevermore,' cawed the raven.

Nevermore? I did not understand; this answer had no meaning. Such a peculiar thing to say—perhaps it escaped from its master, who could only say such a thing as 'Nevermore.' But it seemed all too suspicious—what did it really mean? That I will never suffer from my pain? Never see my dear Lenore?

The only movement in the room was the drapes falling back and forth in the momentum of the wind. Too quiet. The raven just glared, like it was looking into my very soul, burning into the very core of my bosom.

The bird sat there declaring 'Nevermore.'

I stepped back, dumbfounded by the creature. Its very essence in the room mystified me; I turned to the armchair and began to drag it closer to the chamber door and perched myself beneath the bird.

The air in the room seemed to grow denser, colder, made breathing hard; strained breaths that clash on the cold air around me—why was the room so cold? Has this bird brought the chill with it?

The bird cawed 'nevermore.'

'Oh…I have been so blind!' I cried, 'you evil wretch, bird! The room is icy—not with your harsh morals—but my God has sent angels to me! This air is fresh, crisp; only angels can be as pure, as cleansing!'

I leaped out the chair, charging round the room—every breath I took was harder, every breath I let go let me know that the room was still cold—still in the presence of these wonderful seraphs'!

'Come into me!' I declared, 'Come into me and breath in, then expire and take my horrid memories away! I do not want this pain anymore—too long have I sat here, pondering on thoughts of my previous life with her—oh how it could have been! These endless nights should not have been!'

Yet the pain was still there. This torturing heartache was tearing me apart. I fell to the floor—felt the pain jolt through my knees into my body; let the cold spread on outstretched hands through the inside of me. My breath became icier; tears fell down my cheek leaving shear cold streaks. Is this what my Lenore felt?

Out of the darkness, as I knelt on the floor, I heard those cruel, cawed words of 'Nevermore.'

This beast had once again filled me with false hope of lost things, beauty and love coming back to me.

'Prophet!' I whispered, 'thing of evil—bird or devil—whatever has been sent to me,' my voice becoming louder, 'you have filled this manor with an unmatched monster, if there was not already one haunting with horrors through these deserted halls; but…tell me truthfully…is there—is there a balm in Gilead? A medicine where I can fully forget? State an answer, I implore!'

And the raven only spoke of 'nevermore.'

Clawing the stone floor, gasping in the cold air, I felt its great ebony eyes stare down upon me. Looking up to the bird, I felt inferior—but then realized that there was a greater force looking down on us both.

'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil—bird or devil—there is a heaven that bends above us, it looks' down seeing all of our sins, and it knows you for what you are.'

I lifted myself up, hearing the fireplace crack to unleash a wondrous light from the wood that took over the darkness for but a few moments.

'This soul of mine may be laden with sorrow, far from the distant Eden that I once knew, but my soul shall one day re-unite with hers, a rare and radiant maiden who looked as if she was carved by Angels, who they named Lenore; I know that she is in heaven, outshining every angel there.'

Yet again, the reply was 'nevermore.'

All this stress, despair! I crunched my hair with shaking fingers on my shaking hands—this bird must be the devil—it must—for no other of Gods creatures has been so evil.

'DO NOT STATE IT AGAIN!' My voice now shaking with rage, 'be that our parting word—bird or thing of torment! Leave now; go back from whence you came—hell or Plutonian shore—I don't care!'

Suddenly the bird swept off the bust of Pallas, and headed towards the fireplace where the gust made the sheet fall off the painting into the fire—and consumed it greedily to let its overpowering light shine upon the painting. The painting I have not seen for almost a year—my Lenore. I did not want to see her this way. I thought if I kept it hidden, it would ease my pain, but not seeing her for so long only unearthed deeper emotions, beautiful and painful memories…I wanted her more.

The bird flew past my face back to its perch, but I did not care. One small step at a time, I approached the painting gingerly. The flames acted as the sun, the light dancing upon my face, and did off of hers.

'Oh…I had forgotten if those eyes were green or blue…but they were as beautiful as she was.'

I stood there, gazing at her. I did not move. The flames were consuming the darkness.

'Leave my loneliness unbroken, leave from the bust above my chamber door. Leave no black plumes in your wake…take this pain you have made with your sharp beak and remove it from my heart, as the word that you speak from it hurts me. Take your dark form from above my door and go into the night. Leave me.'

Quoth the raven 'Nevermore'."

There was a tapping on the door.

"Come in," said Doctor Bane.

"Oh, sorry doctor—am I disturbing you?" queried the woman.

"No, no—please have a seat, nurse Amore," He said as he placed the file he was reading back into its cabinet.

The nurse approached the mahogany desk, pulled up a chair and sat, straightening her notes up.

"So, what can I do for you ma'am?"

"Yes, well, I have come to give the monthly review on patient number—"

"216, yes, yes. What an unstable fellow. Have you read those notes? He wrote them on his evaluation—it's quite disturbing. A man so far from the outside world, spending every minute in that chamber." He chuckled, not knowing if it was from humor or uneasiness.

"Yes Doctor, but I have come to update you on his…condition."

"Hmm? Any improvement?" his great ebony eyes glowing with interest.

"Sorry Doctor, but there seems to be no improvement on his condition. None of the treatments seem to work- the straight jackets, long baths with both hot and cold water, and—"

Doctor Bane stood up, and walked towards the window and opened the purple curtains to reveal a wonderful sunlight.

"How could a man just…well…stand there as his home is being burnt around him? Leaving him so horrifically disfigured… compliments his state of mind really…and is he still sitting, staring above the door?" He asked as he turned around.

The nurse flicked through the pages, her blue-green eyes running along the words.

"No, the patient has not said anything that he has not said before. However, I did record what he spoke of in our last session."

Hesitating, she took from the folder a piece of text, pulling her delicate features into a frown, took a deep breath, and read from the sheet.

'That raven will not leave me…it is always there, looking down upon me with its eyes, and its eyes are that of a demon that is dreaming; the light throws shadows around the room, casting ghosts that creep towards me and take my soul, and as I watch it draped on the floor I know that it shall be lifted—nevermore!'

Word count: 2,354


End file.
